whisper
by splendeur
Summary: A compilation of onexshots written for Coppertone Wars' 12 Days of Christmas challenge.
1. falling (OTP)

**Whisper in entirety is dedicated to the Coppertone Wars forum, especially _Rachel_, who thought up this crazy challenge in the first place.**

**Without further ado, I complete the "12 Days Of Christmas Challenge: Level 1" with my short drabble, _Falling_, in response to the prompt "write one fic about your OTP" **

**To Massington extremists (yes I went there :), this is all about Alington. Just giving you fair warning! **

**Falling**

Sometimes, falling isn't a bad thing. Other times, it totally is. For instance, falling into a bed after a long, exhausting day can be the best thing in the world, for some. For others, falling (maybe jumping is a better word) off a high cliff is something on their bucket lists. Now, falling into your crush in the hallways is usually something out of your nightmares. And I doubt anyone would enjoy falling into a pit of fanged vipers waiting to strike.

There's one other falling that's more of a gray area, at least for me.

Falling…in love.

Now, I call it gray, because I used to dread it. My mother would always tell me that I would fall in love one day, maybe not now, or even five years later, but I would eventually. I immediately discarded this notion, because 1. ew, and 2. I'm Alicia Rivera. When I was in high school, I wasn't out to fall in love. No.

I was out to break hearts. And maybe have a crush or two, but I never ever thought I'd fall in love. First, of course, it was the boys that were way too old for me in Spain, at my cousin Nina's party. They called me "un ella bonita" after they leaned in for a kiss. But that wasn't love.

Then it was Josh Hotz, the kid from Hotchkiss in seventh. Ha. What was I even thinking? Of course he liked Claire Lyons. I don't like to admit it, but hey, I was naïve at one point.

I revisited him later on that year, and in to eighth, but then I came to my senses and realized he was boring. So I let him down gently, and let my friend, Olivia Ryan. I think everyone won in that situation. In fact, they got voted freshman class couple. I have the yearbook here somewhere, I think.

So I guess that wasn't love either.

I flew solo for most of my frosh and sophomore years. Then, of course, my story brings me to him.

Why dance around it? Derrick Harrington, that's his name.

You know, my mother always told me I'd fall in love one day. Did I already mention that? Oh well. Yeah, well, she was right.

He finally asked me out for Junior Prom. I wore a purple dress, and he got me a white corsage.

"You know, it's funny," he told me that night. "I've always liked you."

"Liked?" I asked coyly, spinning away. "Or loved?"

And it snowballed from there. He came to my dance recitals. I went to his soccer games. He grudgingly took me shopping. I willingly took him to Spain.

Derrick Harrington was the way I realized falling in love wasn't a bad thing at all.

Eventually, they'll come a day where I wear white and he wears black. My mother will sit next to his parents on ribbon-covered chairs. Lentonio will join her after walking me up the aisle.

We will grow old. Eventually, we will die. These are facts that I know deep in my heart. They are not the most pleasant of ideas, but the severity is eased by my knowledge that these two events will happen with Derrick. I will not be alone.

I have faced my fear of falling in love, but I have gained many more, as this is the nature of fear. Now, I fear losing him. I fear never feeling his lips upon my own. And most of all, I fear being alone.

For I would rather face my fear of falling all over again rather than attempt to claw my way out of the deep, dark hole I fell into. Love is scary, this is also a fact.

Even though not having him is one of my fears, I have learned to accept that in facing my fears, they diminish.

* * *

**Reviews are appreciated! Bonus - I made a snarky homage to Lisi Harrisons' finicky...style in here, see if you can find it!**

**Happy writing!**

**-B**


	2. somebody (AU)

**"Somebody"**

**Level for CC: **2A "write two totally AU fics"

**Features:** Totally AU, self-assured Claire with an inflated ego

**A very odd little drabble. Proceed at your own risk**

I can't say I know anything else to do. It's fall now, we're going to see each other every day for our foreseeable 8th grade future at BOCD. I'm still blonde, tan, and fairly thin. It's still not enough to get his attention.

In fact, I never get enough attention. You'd think that being the oldest child in the Lyons family would get me some of the parental kind, but no. I don't play a sport, do great in school, have dozens of friends or exceed expectations physically. Todd Lyons, however, after a summer growth spurt, is all of these things. Even though he's barely a month into seventh grade, none of his grades dip below a 95%. I, however, am the proud holder of no higher than a seventy-one-point-zero-five in biology. Ha, I only have an A in gym, and even that's a miracle.

There's really only one thing that can be seen as positive about me right now: I'm in the pretty committee. It's not all positive though: like Todd, everyone in the pretty committee one-ups me in one-way or another. Kristen hit life's jackpot: she's got beauty, brawn (soccer) and brains. She doesn't have money though; I imagine if she did she'd be leading us all. Massie's got the money, the beauty and the attitude. It's the charisma. I'll never be like her, and that's something that's still hard to swallow. Alicia's prettier than her, and I imagine she's richer too, but she doesn't have that spark. She's not smart. I'm smarter than her, both book-wise and socially, but as the saying goes: beauty beats brains, especially when the brains are rather mediocre.

I guess Dylan's also better than me. She's got that look: the one she doesn't realize gets her attention. Dylan also has money, but she doesn't have that attitude.

Anyway, being in the pretty committee isn't enough for him. It seems like that's all I care about, nowadays. I put on the pretty face for school. The I-don't-care-face. I was especially good at it when I came across Olivia Ryan and him making out in the art hall. Or when the soccer boys took over my hard-earned bomb shelter (I say my, because it's true. I practically did it all, except for Layne, who doesn't really count, does she?). Or when the Pretty Committee was booted into the trailers yesterday.

Beneath that pretty face, I'm still the crazy girl who threw the bracelet into the wave pool because of some overheard maybe-truths. I'm still the girl who said the spying was wrong, but stayed anyway. I'm still the girl who threw away a practically perfect relationship with a boy that never should have paid me attention in the first place for no good reason.

I'm Claire Lyons. _Westchester_ Claire Lyons.

I know deep in my heart that if Cam ever came crawling back to me, I'd take him back, because I'm still Claire Lyons. Westchester has led me to believe all of these aforementioned things about myself. I'm never going to be pretty enough for him. I'm never going to be more popular than Massie. I'm never going to be sportier than Kristen, or nicer than Allie-Rose.

Everybody in Westchester is better than me in some way or another.

And that's why I have to take this offer.

I was stupid last spring to turn down that movie. I should have been smarter then to stay in Westchester. Sure, everyone was still better then me back then, but the at least the Pretty Committee was on top. Massie was being a good friend, but I should have seen right through that. She only needed me to boost her own self-esteem and "round out her group". They say everyone has to have a scapegoat.

Well, here's the thing. I'm not going to be her scapegoat anymore.

I'm going to take this movie. My agent said Bernard's actress fell through, and they've moved the movie release back a year to accommodate a replacement. He's willing to take me on as the scrappy runaway. I'm going to do this role.

I'm going to be somebody.

Not Westchester Claire, who everyone belittles and outshines or tosses away like a piece of trash because she made one little mistake, but _Claire_. Claire Lyons, with her own star on the Hollywood boulevard.

I'll have my own tutor, who will inflate my grades for me, lest I fire him off my numerous sets. I'll pick up dancing, and I'll have the best teachers, so I'll outshine even Alicia. I'll have so many friends; friends that actually count, in the world, that Massie will just be a flattened gnat on the windshield of my life. Todd won't end up eventually out-shining me, because I'll be an _actress_. A Hollywood actress.

There's nothing left for me in Westchester. I'm far too good for them, and they don't even know it.

This is **Claire Lyons**, and I'm going to be _somebody_.

**Review? **

**- B**


	3. hell ((idiotic) AU)

****Warning: totally ridiculous. I'd recommend skipping this, if at all possible****

**"Hell" for level ii, part ii**

**Pairings: none**

**...**

Still here? Alright, this is an incoherent second response to the Coppertone Wars' 12 Days of Christmas Challenges' 2nd Level "Write two totally AU fics"

Basically, instead of the PC throwing the "When hell freezes over" party in Best Friends for Never, it's Becca & Liz. Understand how stupid this is going to be? Good.

Continue at your own risk...

if you dare

**(disclaimer: You guys better be glad I don't own the Clique)**

* * *

Just inside the Vander estate, dozens of guests were excitedly filing in the doors past two butlers dressed in elegant devil apparel, complete with red coattails and long pointy pitchforks. Just beyond them stood Becca Vander and Liz Goldman, dressed in skimpy angel outfits sure to rival any guests'.

"Hey, and welcome to our 'When Hell Freezes Over' party!" they chorused over and over, graciously accepting the flowing praise. It looked like every boy and girl who was invited came… except for four. Looks like the pretty committee was jealous they hadn't thought of the boy-girl party first. At this thought, Becca couldn't stop smiling.

Finally, at fifteen past six, the hostesses ordered the devil-butlers to close the front doors. Becca and Liz were finally free to enjoy their own party.

Just in the doors, they were nearly knocked over by an over-caffeinated Landon Dorsey, skittering around like a chicken with her head cut off. The party planner paid them no mind as she fixed the thermostat on the wall. Once the room was rightfully sixty degrees (sixty-one was simply unacceptable) she ricocheted off to another section of the giant mansion, maybe to fix a bent flower stem or something equally ridiculous.

Becca and Liz shared a brief giggle before they composed their selves. Landon Dorsey was the reason this party was going to be a huge success, OCD and all. There, they separated.

Becca headed over to a clump of Briarwood boys, making sure to shimmy down her white Bebe number before.

Liz immediately headed towards a gaggle of her fellow spray-tan junkies and held out her arm to compare her orange levels. They were just getting in to a serious conversation about the owner of Sun of a Beach taking a maternity leave when a loud bong silenced them. A few seconds afterward, another bong resonated through the central party room.

Becca, still intermingled with the group of Briarwood Boys, glanced around in confusion as the third sound vibrated through the walls. Each sound seemed to be getting increasingly louder and longer.

In-between the fourth and the fifth _bong_, Becca rushed over to Liz. Confusion was apparent in her black kohl'd icy blue eyes.

"I don't get it!" Becca shouted over the fifth _bong_'s echo. "We don't have a-"

The sixth bong cut her off. Becca waited for it to pass before continuing-

"A clock!" Becca finished. "And certainly not one this-"

She paused for the seventh sound to pass.

Becca abandoned her former sentence and used the reprise from the loud bonging to shriek, "LANDON!"

With a nearly eardrum-bursting decibel level, the eighth and final bong resonated throughout the crowd. When the sound waves finally faded away, it left a crowd of irritated, confused and slightly-deaf OCD and Briarwood-goers facing Becca for an explanation.

Becca shouted her party-planner's name again, this time a little softer. What in the world was going on? How could Landon Dorsey, legendary party planner of Massie Block's (there was a reason Becca had selected her) let this happen? People could start leaving unless Becca fixed this-stat.

"Uh, h-hey guys, sorry about that…" Becca said loudly, her narrowed eyes like chips of ice as she searched the crowd for her party planner. "...I, uh, really don't know what happened there, uh-"

"Looks like you picked the right theme, Becca," said a loud, digitized voice. Becca looked around in confusion, not registering the words or what they meant.

"Why? Because it's about to become the real thing… Hell. On. Earth."

The words slowly faded, and Becca opened her mouth to scream for Landon to do _something_. Before she could, every light in the Vander estate shut off with an eerie scrape.

Liz really couldn't help herself: she let out a scream, along with half of the OCD girls in the audience.

"Relax," the digitized voice cackled. "Hell isn't pitch-black, now is it?"

In answer, every light in the Vander estate lit up red.

The screams were only the start of the ensuing chaos. Two beings in ripped devil costumes rose out of the table behind Becca, and with loud laughter, dumped the "pallid punch" on her perfectly sculpted blonde angel curls. Becca let out an earsplitting scream that added to the hysteria. Immediately, the soaking-wet girl ran off in search of solace.

The two initial devils, with a high five, split off into the crowd of stampeding tweens.

One of the devils, this one with a red curl falling out of her headpiece, ran by chasing two Valentino-clad mice with blue food coloring dripping off of her talons. The mice, instead of being "misty silk" now resembled that one Picasso painting hanging in the OCD Café.

Landon Dorsey was curled up in the middle of the floor, sobbing hysterically as the party descended further into chaos. A group of tall princess-dress clad seventh-graders, hysterical in their own right, stampeded over the petite party planner as a ferocious foot-tall four-legged pug chased them. The black lapdog, every chance she got, would leap up and tear a piece of fabric from one of the girls' dresses. Slowly, the designer gowns were being transformed from full length to butt exposing Vegas wear.

Meanwhile, in the front foyer, one particularly voluptuous masked devil was busy torturing a gaggle of Briarwood Swim Team boys out the front door by dropping toilet paper soaked with Flowerbomb perfume. Intermittedly she would also throw a handful of assorted potpourri, intensifying the fumes. Her haunted giggles echoed off the walls, causing the boys to scramble for exits as quickly as possible.

The last devil was busy elsewhere, making sure that the lights kept flickering ominously and the screams kept filtering out of the Vander's Bose sound system. It was the last straw for many of the terrified middle-school tweens when the sound of a screeching catfight split through the stereo system at exactly 8:07.

And of course, the very last devil was comfortably seated on the precipice of the Vander roof, watching with amusement as terrified OCD and Briarwood goers fled the estate. Most had their iPhones up to their ears, anxiously begging their parents to come right then…or at least send the butler. The tide of people ebbed and flowed, but in less than ten minutes, everyone was gone. The party was ruined: past repair. With no people, you have no party.

With that thought, the devil casually stood up on the flat, light-sodden roof and smiled up at the moon.

"And that is why," she leered, "no one will _ever_ overthrow Massie Block."

* * *

So, yeah, a little bit idiotic, but hey: AU!

Reviews would be great, I love seeing them!

See you on level three, I suppose?

**-B**

_**edit: I promise the fics to come will be better than this...I hope!**_


End file.
